Chapter 4
FOUR
Later that night, sleepless and unsettled on his lumpy-ass pullout couch, Sebastián considered the damning evidence Lucy had seen.
His request—no, his plea—for her to stay with him had revealed more than enough. Too much. But he could dismiss that moment of weakness as the justifiable concern of a casual friend for her comfort and safety. The stash of letters, on the other hand…
Stupid turtle postcard, he thought. You gave me away, you green-finned motherfucker.
He’d never intended for Lucy to know how he’d printed all her e-mails in case he switched providers or accidentally erased his old messages or experienced some sort of worldwide computer outage.
How he’d moved that stack of letters with him across the country.
How he’d kept those postcards, those neatly penned lines, those smiley-face-laden e-mails hidden but close to him. Protected from view and harm both.
For all his attempts to downplay the significance of that stash, to brush it off as the instinct of a data-driven engineer, he’d spied new knowledge in her warm brown eyes. Speculation. Unwelcome questions about him and the intensity of his feelings for her.
For well over a decade, he’d managed to hide himself. She’d never comprehended that she was his greatest joy, as well as his greatest vulnerability.
And he didn’t reveal vulnerabilities to anyone.
Not even to Lucy. Not even during those few, breathless moments over the years when he’d have sworn she felt the same way about him. Not even when she smiled at him and he wanted to shout his love for her to the world.
He’d trained himself too well. Or maybe his years at Marysburg High had done the job for him. Either way, he’d learned his lesson.
Expose your heart, and someone would crush it underfoot.
But how much longer could he hide that heart from the one woman who’d always owned it?
Before first light, he’d already made coffee and given Hairy—ineffably stupid but sweet, as always—a walk, some food, and a good rub.
Then he’d almost tripped on the damn dog, who seemed intent on remaining underfoot when he wasn’t sniffing after poor Kitty, who lay exhausted, cranky, and well-licked on her least-despised blanket.
Once Sebastián worked up the courage, he crept into his bedroom, cursing his idiocy. If he hadn’t gotten so rattled last night, he’d have remembered to grab the necessary clothing and toiletries for the next day.
Lucy needed her sleep. He didn’t want to wake her. If he didn’t particularly want to face her either, that was an entirely irrelevant issue.
But her eyes were open when he cracked the bedroom door, and she sat up. “Morning, Seb.”
In his bed, she looked just as he’d sometimes dreamed. Sleepy, rumpled, and warm. Soft and relaxed and happy to see him. Gorgeous.
The covers fell to her waist as she flicked her hair behind her shoulders.
She’d worn an oversized tee to bed. Innocuous enough.
And her bralessness, while welcome, wasn’t exactly a change from her normal attire.
But he knew for a fact she wasn’t wearing one of her voluminous skirts, since yesterday’s offering lay draped over her suitcase.
Those bare, curvy legs were tangled in his sheets right now, and he couldn’t breathe.
Was she wearing any underwear at all? Or would she be warm and naked all over if he tugged aside the covers?
Shit. Stop staring, man. You’re being creepy and weird.
“Good morning.” He cleared his throat, trying to make his tone convey his total lack of interest in the sexy woman lying in his bed while possibly panty-less and definitely braless. “I forgot my clothing. I’ll be out of your way in a second.”
She propped a pillow in front of the headboard and scooted back against it. “No problem. Take your time.”
Then, to his dismay, she just watched him. And damn it, his fingers kept fumbling with the drawer handles and the things he needed, like underwear and socks.
“I haven’t seen you shirtless since high school.” Her smile contained a hint of naughtiness he hadn’t spied in far too long. “You look good in a pair of pajama bottoms, Castillo.”
He had to smile. “You haven’t really seen me shirtless now either. Without your glasses, I’m just a man-shaped blur.”
“I can see better than you think.”
He wasn’t touching that loaded statement. “Once I grab my toiletries, I’ll leave you in peace. There’s still plenty of time to sleep before we have to go.”
“I’d like to doze a little longer.” Her back arched in a sinuous stretch, and he almost swallowed his tongue. “But Hairy is probably squirming and crossing his legs by now, so I’d better get up.”
“I took care of that. You can relax.”
He darted into the bathroom, snatched a handful of random bottles, and raced for the door to the hall. Before long, the state of his pajama bottoms would be obvious even to a woman with severe myopia. He needed to flee. Now.
She flopped down onto her back again. “Thank you so much. In that case, I really am going back to sleep. Could you wake me an hour before we have to leave?”
“Sure.”
The door was almost closed when she spoke again. “Seb?”
Oh, Jesus. Not another quick question. His heart would implode.
He couldn’t speak. Instead, he simply waited.
“If you looked in my suitcase…” She paused. “If you looked in there, you’d see a bunch of papers too. Every terrible limerick you ever wrote me. Even the high school one about Allie, where you rhymed Alyssa with ass-kissa and diss-a. I put them all in a binder years ago.”
She’d packed her unnecessary items and moved them into storage. Did that mean she considered all those awful literary offerings, written solely for her amusement…necessary?
Did that mean she considered him necessary? As necessary as he considered her? But if so, why was she moving?
She didn’t say any more, and he didn’t ask. Instead, he closed the door quietly behind him and fed his disgruntled cat while trying very hard not to think about how easy joining Lucy in bed would have been.
Two hours later, he was still trying. Even the sight of her fully dressed—or as fully dressed as she ever got, anyway—didn’t stave off the wholesale lust that had overtaken him in the past twenty-four hours.
Outside his dreams, he’d never let himself think about her in such a sexual way before. Never, not when his need for her company was already so powerful. Not when his desire could weaken his resolve to keep his feelings hidden. Now, though…
Now he couldn’t seem to stop.
She mentioned how hot and tight the loft yesterday had been, and he placed himself behind a strategic kitchen counter.
She checked the bump on his head, and he wanted to capture those careful, gentle fingers in his mouth.
She drifted into the sunlight pouring through his window, and his eyes focused on her sweet, small nipples without any say-so from his conscious brain.
Until yesterday, he’d been a man under complete control. This was a travesty.
After a quick breakfast, they gave Hairy one last rub and Kitty one last respectful nod, and then headed out the door. Soon, thank God, they weren’t going to be alone anymore. Surrounded by the show’s crew, he should be able to regain his equilibrium without any problem.
Neutral. Stay neutral.
That vow of neutrality lasted until they rounded a corner and the next tiny house option came into view, Allie and the crew standing beside it.
His hands clenched on the wheel. “Jesus Christ.”
“I think Jesus abandoned that school bus a few years ago.” She sounded amused but tired. “I appreciate the sentiment, however.”
He parked a good distance from the crew, buying him and Lucy time to talk privately. “You’re very calm about the prospect of Allie pressuring you to buy…that.”
That rust-ridden monstrosity, he wanted to add. But Lucy needed to draw her own conclusions.
“When I couldn’t go back to sleep this morning, I meditated for a while.” Her hand had delved into her pocket, and he knew she was rubbing her amethyst again. Her glasses she might misplace, but never her worry stone. “I decided to stay in the moment and enjoy today.”
He nodded. “Good.”
Until Jarrod, that was how she’d always dealt with her daily life and its stresses: with meditation, warm enthusiasm, and faith that the future would take care of itself if she paid attention to the present.
As she’d once explained to him, the worry stone served as a way to ground herself in her senses and bring herself back to the now.
It wasn’t meant to be a crutch, but a reminder.
He wasn’t sure it still fulfilled the same purpose these days. After Jarrod, she’d begun to doubt herself, question her own decisions, in a way Sebastián had never seen before. And each time she reached for that worry stone now, the pit of rage in his stomach burned a little hotter.
Not rage at her. Never her.
At that dick she’d dated. At a world that had dimmed her glow, when she was better than all of them. Jarrod. Allie. Sebastián himself.
He would give anything to have that inimitable Lucy shine back. Now.
“Unlike yesterday, I already know what to expect.” She unhooked her seat belt. “If this…um, peach-colored bus doesn’t suit my needs, I know I'll find something that does. I can make this situation work, one way or the other.”
Cracking his car door, he swung a foot onto the parking lot pavement.
“And unlike yesterday, I won’t forget the most important part.” She got out and closed the door behind her. “I’m spending time with you, my favorite person in the world. That’s cause for joy and gratitude, no matter what the day brings.”
Her smile rivaled the sun. He drew in a deep breath, tempted to drop to his knees and give thanks for everything she was. To beg her not to leave him, even though he’d never even hinted that he wanted her to stay.